


You Found Me

by The_Morregan



Series: They Arrived [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, An old fic that I fixed, Children and Durins what fun!, F/M, Fili is not having it, Fun Times Were Had By All, Funny, Gandalf Is a Little Shit, Gandalf Meddles, Gandalf Was Involved, I was Sixteen Don't Yell At Me, Kili is cute, M/M, More tags to follow, Multi, Shit happened, They Arrived Here, Thorin Is Tied To A Bed, Thorin Is an Idiot, Yes I know another OC fic, badass females, bitch you thought, probably, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8468107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Morregan/pseuds/The_Morregan
Summary: Thorin wakes up in a strange woman's bed. Thank you, Gandalf. 
This is the revised version of a story I wrote two years ago. Let's see how it goes.





	1. Gandalf Was Involved, And That's The Only Thing We're Sure Of

 

Thorin Oakenshield was sleeping peacefully in his chambers. Unbeknownst to him the wizard Gandalf has crept into his chambers, planning to transport the dwarf to parts unknown (to Thorin at least).  
  
Gandalf tucked a note into Thorin's breast pocket and chuckled rather maniacally, preparing the transportation spell, having already made Thorin a full two feet taller.

  
_Vivian should appreciate that,_ he thought to himself. _Eventually._

  
Within seconds Thorin glowed a mystical blue and disappeared.  
Gandalf strolled from the High Kings' former chamber, whistling merrily. Time to inform the elder of the two sister-sons that he had a temporary job.

* * *

  
  
Vivian slept dreamlessly in her flat in Cambridge, New York. The year was 2013, and she was as far from Middle Earth as humanly possible. A sudden weight on her bed and an unfamiliar arm curled  around her waist woke her, Vivian squirmed around so that she faced the person at her back. Thorin grumbled and pulled her even closer, so that she had a mouthful of the mans' beard. Vivian started kicking and hitting everything possible.  
  
Thorin slowly opened his eyes and looked down at the delicately broad shoulders and slightly muscled arms that were beating ineffectively at his midsection. Thorin sat them up and turned around, gripping her shoulders and bringing her eyes level with his, he looked closely at her face trying to find any resemblance to the tavern wench that he thought he'd sent away the night before. The girl caught him rather by surprise when she surged backward, slamming his head into the footboard, and effectively knocking the  Dwarf King unconscious.  
  
Vivian rose from the arms of the man, feeling rather triumphant, and ran into her bathroom for the emergency rope that never really had a politely discussable purpose, but sat in the medicine cabinet anyway.  
  
     "Thank God." Vivian muttered to herself.  
  
Peering around the door to the man still out cold on her bed , Vivian let out a calming breath and walked slowly out to her kitchen. A paring knife in hand, she stepped over to her bed and, cutting 1 ½ foot lengths, began to tie the stranger to the posts.  
  
_Guess Girl Scouts all those years ago was helpful after all_ , she thought absently.

_  
_ Once the strange person was sufficiently secured Vivian began to inspect him. Kinda creepy yes, but she needed to know what she was up against.  
  
A thick black beard obscured the lower half of his face, and hair of the same color streaked with white-grey. Strong-looking hips, powerful calves- surprisingly hairless- and, was that? Ohh. Yep, definitely male. Vivian shuddered, and began perusing his torso. Broad shoulders, well-defined muscles.  
  
In a word? This guy was buff.  
  
_What's this?_ Vivian moved so that she was sitting on the stranger's thighs, ankles to either side of his knees , and pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of his nightshirt.  
  
The outside read; _To My Dearest Vivian._ Okay, odd. Vivian opened the note and read it, muttering as she did.  
  
_My Dearest Vivian.  
I love you most. Don't ever forget that. This is Thorin Oakenshield, Dwarven King Under The Mountain. I've sent him to live with you because he has lost all semblance of the man he once was and he needs a re-education. I've chosen you to lead him on the path to recovery and becoming a worthy king. He'll be taller than one would expect for a dwarf, I've made some modifications to assure better blending.  
Adorations and Exaultations  
  
Ian Mithrandir  
_  
_(P.s. Watch your language, young lady!)  
_  
      "Mother of Hell," Vivian cursed. The paper became a wad of nothing in her clenched fist and she cursed again. "Damn you Mithrandir! Send me a strange man! Expect me to care for him and retrain him! Make him into a 'worthy king'! Oh, yeah, sure I don't care! I don't have a life! I can just drop whatever I'm doing and do as you ask!"  
  
 "What am I going to do?” She groaned into the cotton shirt, resting her brow on Thorin’s breastbone. _What the hell kind of name is_ _ **Thorin**_ _anyway?_

  
      "You could start by getting off of my legs and telling me who you are and where I am." The chest beneath her forehead vibrated with a deep, pleasant, if more than a little entitled, rumble. Vivian looked her new guest in the eyes for the first time, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.  
  
  
     "Whether or not either of us likes it, we're going to be stuck together for the next God knows how long, and there is no way in HELL I'm going to tolerate being spoken to like that! Especially by someone who is only here by my good graces!"

  
Thorin's outraged look was almost comical, "YOUR GOOD GRACES?! Any wench should bow to me and serve me in anything and everything! I AM KING!"  
  
Vivian raised her chin defiantly. " Well for a king you aren't in a very good position! And I am no common WENCH! I am your EQUAL and I _will_  be treated as such!"  
  
Totally unimpressed, Vivian tossed her hair out of her way and tugged her tank top strap back up her shoulder, she reached into the drawer at her bedside. Vivian jumped from his legs, and, with socks in hand, ran back into her bathroom, exiting  with camo duct tape.  
  
      "Woman, what are you doing?! Stop! I command y-! MM! MFGLR! MMMM!"  
  
Vivian grinned. "You seem incapable of speaking civilly, therefore you won't be able to speak at all. When you calm down and decide to apologize I will untie you, remove the covering on your mouth and feed you. Meanwhile I will shower, eat, and probably read."  
  
      "MMMMH! MGMHGFDH! NNNNGH!" Thorin's eyes were murderous as he struggled and screamed against his bonds.  
  
She smiled, with only the barest hint of sadism in her eyes. "I'll be back. Don’t break anything," Vivian called as she left.

  
_Prime directive today? Shower. Coffee. Figure out what the_ _ **fuck**_ _my life has become,_ Vivian thought, as one does when woken by a strange man in one’s bed.

  
She grabbed a clean pair of jeans, a blue V-neck, a towel and her iPod, which she put on shuffle and plugged into the jack by her shower. Gold by Kiiara blared, filling the small room. Vivian undressed and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water spill over her shoulders and back as she contemplated her current issue.

  
_What the hell am I going to do with the man tied to my bed? Clothes first. I think I still have some of Johns' that might fit._

* * *

  
  
Thorin however was seething. How dare she? Who did she think she was? Struggling against his bonds until his wrists screamed their own protest, and trying to work the crude (albeit effective) gag out of his mouth. Thorin wanted to scream. Well, more than he already had.

 

_The last thing I remember is….._ Thorin stilled as the tumblers of his mind clicked into place. _**Gandalf.**_

  
Total stillness was replaced with a sudden desire to rip whatever was holding him fast out of it's place and find that insolent, unhelpful, irritating, just overall ass-hat of a wizard and-

Whoa.  
  
Vivian's V-neck accented the swell of her breasts, her long, dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, bangs loose to frame her face, and her jeans hugged the curve of her butt and calves. By Mahal, they just didn’t make them like that anymore. Despite her lack of a respectable beard, she was beautiful.  
  
Vivian strode into the bedroom of her flat. She smirked at Thorin's gaping expression, obvious even through the duct tape gag.  
  
      "Are you ready to apologize, and speak civilly?" Vivian managed a cold indifference in her tone, despite the overwhelming urge to giggle madly because _how many people wake up and tie a king to their bed?_

  
Thorin's 's steely grey eyes met Vivian's honey brown and he glared.

  
_No. I will endure this. I refuse to be brought to heel, like a dog, by a woman I don’t even know._

  
The Eyebrow arched up once more, and the smirk returned, “Very well.”

  
She turned on her heel, and left the room without another word, and Thorin cheered mentally. Soon enough, however, the smell of sausage and the crackle of frying potatoes danced along his senses, tantalizing. His stomach gave a growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much of anything in days, and Thorin couldn’t help but groan aloud himself when Vivian came back carrying a steaming plate.  
  
Without so much as an upward glance, Vivian sat on the corner of her bed and began eating. The smell of what promised to be a delicious breakfast wafted torturously toward Thorin, and his stomach, the damn traitor that it was, growled again loudly. Rather than offering the man a respite, Vivian smiled and began talking.

  
     “Mmm. You know these are possibly the best potatoes I’ve ever made? They’re just so tender, and tasty. It’s a shame I can’t share them with someone,” she smiled innocently at him, and gestured with her fork.

  
Thorin’s glare redoubled.

  
     “I mean, if I knew someone who owed me a small apology, and was obviously hungry I might reconsider. But I have to say, it’s a rather slim chance. Do _you_ know anyone like that, Thorin?”

  
Steely, curious, eyes looked at her from under dark brows, flicking quickly from plate to smiling woman.

  
_Fine,_ he thought begrudgingly. _How does she know my name,_ came late to the mind party, but there was food, Thorin couldn’t be blamed.  Muffled syllables came through a layer of duct tape, and Vivian’s triumphant smile could have lit the room.

  
     “What was that? Thorin, you surprise me, I’ll take your gag off so that I can hear you properly.”

  
Thorin nodded slowly. Vivian put her plate on the bedside table, sat on his knees and reached over to the left side of his face and pulled the duct tape away in one swift motion.  
  
        "AAARGH!" Thorin howled and kicked so hard that he almost unseated her.  
  
Vivian tried not to chuckle, really she did, but she failed. Quickly regaining her composure she gave Thorin a look that said 'I'm waiting.'  
  
         "My deepest and sincerest apologies for my behavior. I beg your forgiveness Lady-?" Thorin's tone was constricted and formal, and when he asked her name he cocked one eyebrow.  
      
        "Vivian. And there are no ladies here besides yourself. Call me Viv."  
  
Thorin seethed silently at her jab. "May I please be untied now, Vivian?" Thorin's tongue curled uncertainly around her name.  
  
Vivian sighed dramatically, "Oh, I suppose."  
  
She leaned forward, intentionally pushing her breasts forward. Not that she was that insecure, or desperate.

No, she just wanted him to squirm.  
  
She took the paring knife from the bedside table where it lay beside her plate, and began to work it beneath the rope, careful of the skin on the back of his hand. Vivian worked the knife back and forth and finally the rope frayed and broke, this continued as she worked the other hand. When it came time for the ropes around his ankles, she turned her body fully, knees still beside his, and bent at the waist.  
  
Thorin was having a rough time. No straight Dwarf that he had ever met  -gay either, come to think of it-  could resist a shapely back end. And to have one bobbing between his knees? With the smell of breakfast hanging in the air? Well, let's just say that was pure torture and Thorin was trying very hard to contain himself. He recalled his most off-turning memory, walking in on Balin and Gandalf going at it like rabbits, and Thorin physically shuddered.  
  
"Alright. You're free." Vivian turned and rose to her knees, bringing her face dangerously close to …Urhrm.  
  
Vivian fixed her hair and swung her knees from his, “I suppose I should let you eat.”

  
The pregnant pause, though only a few seconds in reality, felt like an eternity for Thorin.

  
      “But before I do, I want you to go put these on.”

  
She pointed him to what she  called the 'bathroom', handed him a bundle, and was gone before Thorin could fully take in his surroundings.  Thorin peered into the small room, wondering how it was supposed to give him enough room to move.  
  
Snorting in contempt at the garments he was given Thorin was almost tempted to call for a different set, nevermind what would happen if he tried.

  
_That woman has a dwarfs' temper. It would be best to just let well enough alone._

  
After wrestling with the tunic-like article and pulling on the denim breeches, Thorin walked out from the bathroom to the smell of bacon and eggs.  
  
"Good morning Sunshine." Vivian looked up at him and smirked.

      "We're going shopping when you’re ready, so eat up."  She waited for him to be situated at the table before setting a steaming plate of bacon sausage and cheesy scrambled eggs in front of him, along with knife and fork.  
   
     "Yes, Milady," and he dove in hungrily, not bothering with the knife or fork. Vivian slapped his shoulder reprovingly.  
  
"Manners!"  
  
      "Yes, Milady," Thorin sheepishly ate his food, using the proper utensils. "Vivian, how do you know Gandalf?"  
  
  
"Never mind that right now." Vivian seemed stressed by the question but, if Thorin noticed this he chose not to acknowledge it, and persisted.  
  
     "How do you know Gandalf, Vivian? You must tell me, I am the King."  
  
Vivian begged herself to remain calm, only allowing herself to speak through clenched teeth, “You are not _my_ king, and I’ll thank you to leave. _It. Alone._ ”

  
Thorin shot up from the flimsy plastic table, knocking it over with a crash.  
  
"WOMAN YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DENY ME ANYTHING THAT I ASK! I AM KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN!" His tone was volcanic, withheld anger and long-since bottled emotion exploded in a fit of temper.

Vivian had held up reasonably under current circumstances, but Thorin pulling rank like this was beginning to wear. She turned her body slightly, her eyes never leaving Thorin's, and pulled out her culinists' scimitar from the knife block to her right. Vivian pressed her body to his, holding her left arm bent, and she used the other to hold his lower back, keeping the point of the knife flush against the right of his zipper and nudging for attention.

Her voice was soft and dangerous. "I will not hesitate to take off the reason they call you king. Hold rank over me all you like, it will gain you no ground and bring you no pleasure."  
  
Vivian removed the knife and pressed the point instead to the hollow of his throat.  
  
"I've dealt with bastards like you since I could walk. Self-important assholes who think that their opinion is the only one that matters. I don't tolerate it. As long as you live in my house you and I are equals and will discuss issues with some semblance of manners and distinct lack of shouting. Newsflash, buddy, women in this century have opinions and use them."  
  
A fierceness sharpened Vivian's eyes "And as for Uncle Ian? He and his husband saved me from a world of pain when I was 16. Now, before one or both of us does something _really_ stupid, I’m going to take a private minute. Excuse me."  
  
Vivian turned herself from him stiffly, slammed the knife back into the block and took measured steps away from him into her bedroom. The door slammed and he was alone.

  
  
Thorin was was struck dumb.  
  
Over the course of a single morning this woman had tied him to her bed,  gagged him, teased him, threatened the one appendage that he valued more than the Arkenstone, and beaten him in both of their skirmishes.  
  
He swore he had fallen in love.  
  
At that particular thought Thorin banged his head into the nearest corner of the wall. Much harder than he meant to. _Ow, son of an Orc, that hurt!_  
  
Vivian's voice echoed, repressed emotion leaking through her careful words. "You break anything and I'll kill you!"  
  
Thorin chuckled at her threat. He heaved a giant sigh and began to right the mess he'd made. Thorin picked up the broken plate and glass that had been half-filled with an orange colored juice. He deposited the pieces of broken glass into the sink, planning to ask Vivian about what do with them later. Thorin righted the light table and looked around for a rag.

* * *

  
  
When Vivian stumbled out of her room about ten minutes later she found the broken dishes in the sink, her kitchen in a better state than she’d left it,  and Thorin himself  mopping orange juice off of  her crappy laminate floor.  
  
Vivian raised an eyebrow and asked warily, " Who are you and what have you done with the guy I had tied to my bed a half an hour ago?"  
  
Thorin looked up and smiled. Vivian noticed that he had taken a strip of the nightshirt that he had worn during the transportation and bound his long, dark hair back. The blue lowlights and silver highlights showed in more detail than she had ever thought possible.

  
She took a deep breath, looked at her feet and then met Thorin’s eyes, “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I was out of turn.”

  
Thorin stood, and placed his hands on her shoulders, realizing for the first time that he was taller than she was, “Vivian, I too, must apologize. I let my temper get the best of me, and it was unfair to you.”

  
He pulled her closer, slowly, trying to gauge her reaction, but Vivian allowed the contact, wrapping her arms around his waist  when they were close enough. It felt natural somehow, Thorin’s arms around her shoulders, and her head resting gently on his chest.  
  
     "We seemed to get off to a bad start. I'd like to fix that." Thorin stepped back to arm’s length and Vivian wanted to cry.  
  
He bowed deeply at the waist, "Thorin Oakenshield, at your service."  
  
His voice, when not thunderously raised was quite smooth and comforting. Vivian shook her head and smiled, taking his hand.  
  
  
        " I am Vivian Carrol and I assure you the pleasure is all mine."  
  
  
"Now I believe you said something earlier about shopping? I'd like to see the differences in our world in more detail." Thorin sounded earnest and curious.  
.  
        "Car or walk? Oh. Wait. Damn!" Vivian shook her head at her own foolishness, of course he wouldn't know what a car was.  
  
Thorin cocked an eyebrow at her antics but did not press.  
  
        "Nevermind. Let's just walk." Vivian said quickly.  
  
Grabbing her keys she turned the door handle and tugged Thorin's sleeve.  
  
"C'mon! Let's go! Farmer's market first and then the store."  
  
Thorin looked uneasy, and considered resisting departure from the only place he had any semblance of comfort with in this - already- strange new world. Taking one deep breath, and grasping subconsciously at Vivian’s wrist, Thorin willed himself past the door and into the 21st century.

 


	2. It's Never Boring, Is It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markets are perused, stories are told, and old adversaries are met.

Fili, and Kili were rolling all over Gandalf's tower floor.  
  
"When she-" Fili wheezed between laughing fits."  
  
"I know! Did you see his face?" Kili responded clutching at his sides.  
  
Gandalf's gaze was apprehensive. " Are you two quite done? I have something a bit more somber to show you that will explain Vivian’s reaction."  
  
The boys sobered up and stood over the palantir once again. Unlike before the swirling clouds did not reveal their Uncle and Vivian, this time it was a sixteen-year old Vivian cowering in a dark place. Outside of her apparent hiding-place a deep male voice, obviously inebriated, called for her.  
  
"Viv-vian! I gots some gent'le man callers for ya! Time to come an' play schweetness!"  
  
When Vivian did not come running, her father, judging by his dark hair, ran directly to the place he knew his sixteen year old daughter would be hiding. He pulled her by her arm, screaming from the bottom of the hall closet.  
  
"Daddy! Please no more! I'll be good, I'll cook better, I'll do anything! Just no more, Daddy! Please!" Vivian's eyes were wide and pleading, no shred of hope in them, even as she begged.  
  
The man yanked her face close to his by her hair. "Shaddap you filthy whore. I need the money. Go put on your bes' ou-fit and yer pretty face. These guests are specshul." When Vivian hesitated, he shouted, "NOW!"  
  
Vivian complied, tears streaming down her face. She opened the door to her room and crossed it to the lighted vanity next to the window. Vivian sat down on the plush velvet cushion, one of three items in decent shape in the entirety of the room, and began to run a brush through her hair. While she did so Fili and Kili heard her whispering and strained to hear.  
  
"Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess, and her name was Vivian. She had silky dark brown hair, cinnamon-colored eyes and the sweetest smile and everybody loved her. Everyone, that is, except her cruel father."  
  
Vivian stopped running the brush through her hair and picked up a stick of eyeliner.  
  
"When Princess Vivian had been only a baby Queen Susan, her mother, took her away from her father. The Queen brought the complaints against her husband to the Emperor's Court to try to keep the wicked King away from herself and her daughter forever, but to no avail. The Court decided that the child would spent one year, every other year with her father."  
  
Vivian paused again to take a makeup brush from the glass and begin to apply a bit of bronzer and blush.  
  
"When the princess' mother died, and she lived with her father full-time, her life was miserable. Her father always forced her to sing and dance and otherwise entertain his disgusting fat guests. The princess' one solace in this dark and gloomy part of her life was the talking mirror in her room that always told her stories, particularly her own so that she would never forget and could one day escape the horrible prison of her father's castle."  
  
Vivian pulled a small-looking red leather dress from her closet and a matching pair of high heels, and pulled them on quickly. Her father's voice rang for her in the hall, and Vivian steeled herself with a deep shuddering breath.  
  
Gandalf stopped the vision in the looked up at him horrorstruck. " Was her father-?"  
  
Gandalf nodded solemnly. " I was her mythology teacher at the time and I had seen unusual bruises. I had the police mount an investigation on her father's residence. Needless to say, her father was arrested and put away for the foreseeable future. But one of the few amenities given to prison inmates is internet access."  
  
Kili looked at Fili questioningly. Fili shrugged, but Gandalf quickly redirected their attention by clearing his throat.

  
“He is able to send correspondence to people outside of the prison, to people who could work to get him free.”

  
The boys' mouths dropped open in disbelief, "HE CAME BACK?!".  
  
Gandalf shook his head, "Not quite, but he was able to make contact with one of his friends. He, through that friend, has set an assassin on Vivian. She doesn’t know, but her life is in great danger, which made my reason for sending Thorin to Earth twofold. He can protect her and she can mend him."

* * *

  
  
Vivian had spent the last hour and a half trying to explain to Thorin that the things blazing past him were not Wargs or other enemies trying to kill him, a high adventure to say the least.  
  
Finally the pair had reached the farmer's market three and a half blocks away, and Vivian almost sobbed in relief. The market was normally quiet and Vivian thought that it would be a good place to start Thorin's 'immersion process'.  
  
"You can roam around. I won't be outside of yelling distance should you need me." Vivian chuckled under her breath. " I doubt that you will."  
  
Thorin looked impassive, but his tone betrayed a hint of worry and discomfort. "And you? Where will you be?"  
  
Vivian looked at him with a cocked brow and slightly inclined head, "Why would my whereabouts concern so great and independent a king?"  
  
Thorin's eyes sharpened slightly and his tone became more gruff than what Vivian had come to assume was normal, "They do not."  
  
Vivian chuckled again. "I'll see you later then, don't leave the park and come find me if something catches your eye."  
  
Thorin nodded and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his - as Vivian had called them- jeans. Thorin thought about the differences between this and the markets in Dale as he browsed methodically, ambling down the right side of the row and up the left. Thorin inspected everything with a critical eye, noting the rather poor workmanship of the jewelry and toys, as well as the bruising and mars of the produce.  
  
As Thorin was working his way up the third row he heard a familiar sound, accompanied by a much-loved and dearly missed sight. A group of children sat in a circle around a withered man who was telling a story. Some of the boys were sitting forward, heads in hands, captivated. A group of girls were taking turns braiding each other's hair, obviously still listening intently, if their frequent and dramatic gasps were anything to go by.  
  
The story seemed to conclude as Thorin walked closer, and he couldn't help the disappointment that flickered across his features. The elderly man hobbled to his feet with the help of the children, all of whom begged for another story.  
  
The elder glanced over his shoulder and a mischievous look crossed his face and he grinned. He bent down to the boy at his elbow and whispered in his ear.  
  
The young boy's face lit up and the child trotted over to Thorin. "Will you tell us a story, mister? Please?"  
  
Thorin gazed down at the boy, no more than eight, rather shocked. The child's wide brown eyes begged, and the other children began to repeat the question. With each new pair of pleading eyes, each new hand that pulled at his sleeves, Thorin found it impossible to deny these unknown children anything.  
  
"I suppose." Thorin told them, sounding rather shell shocked.  
  
The group sent up a resounding chorus of 'Yay' and pushed Thorin onto the stool that the previous storyteller had just vacated. "What sort of story would you like to hear?"  
  
The boys of the group shouted for an adventure, and the girls called something about love. The ensuing argument between them was rather funny, and gave Thorin time to think for a moment. When the children quieted Thorin spoke.  
  
"I have a story that should please both parties." The group quickly fell  silent, " It's called 'There And Back Again', and it is a story about loss and love and adventure but most of all about coming home. And it begins in a hole…"  
  
Taking a deep breath Thorin began to tell the group of children at his feet the tale of the claiming of Erebor, leaving out most of the really gory bits, and making Bilbo into a gentlewoman, unsure whether or not that particular relationship would be appreciated by parents, but otherwise using the names and places that he had traversed over in Middle Earth.

* * *

  
  
Meanwhile Vivian was only slightly worried. It had been almost forty-five minutes since she and Thorin had parted at the gate. She thought that she would have heard him calling to explain something if nothing else. Vivian noticed that there was a group moseying toward the Story Circle, where anyone could tell any story that they thought would be listened to.  
  
Slowly, so that she would not chip any of her new pottery, Vivian worked her way through the throng to see for herself what was going on. To her surprise Thorin was in the center of a group of children and adults, mimicking the fatal blow and battle cry that ended The Battle of Five Armies and won Erebor for the line of Durin.  
  
"The King and the two Princes had sustained serious injuries and for a long time healers feared that he and his two nephews would not live."  
  
There was a collective gasp from the audience.  
  
"But do not fear, all lived. Now as the King was getting better and taking on more and more of is duties the Lady Baggins came into his chambers. She told him that she had to leave for her home and didn’t intend on coming back."  
  
Thorin's voice changed and became more reminiscent and sad.  
  
"The King begged and pleaded with her not to go, to stay with him and rule as his queen. But with one last kiss Lady Baggins was gone from Erebor forever."  
  
The assembly as a whole bore a look of sympathy for someone in a story that they didn't know was true.  
  
"The King took actions most shameful at this point, rather than working hard to restore Erebor and upholding his family's legacy, he let himself drown in drink. Noblewomen from across the land trotted themselves and their riches in front of the King, each hoping that one of them could take the Lady Baggins' place in his heart. None did."  
  
Thorin looked up and saw Vivian standing in the crowd, smiling.  
  
He leaned in close to the children and stage- whispered.  
  
"And one night the mischievous wizard snuck into his chambers and sent him away to a faraway land, and he has not been heard from since."  
  
The group that Thorin had gathered around himself applauded loudly and many of the children hugged him about the legs and begged for another story tomorrow. "Perhaps, I'll have to check it over with the lady of my house. Until then!" Thorin turned and waved to his audience, grinning wildly.

Vivian stood before him, a small, proud smile on her face, “That was a very good story.”

“Thank you. I will admit to embellishing a bit, especially on the King’s behalf. He wasn’t half so devilishly charming as I made him out,” Thorin returned her smile, and extended a hand to the bag on her shoulder. “What do you have here?”

  
She looked at the bag, as though she had forgotten it was there, “Oh, just some pottery. I needed new vases.”

Thorin hummed, and looped her free arm in his as they began to walk back in the general direction of Vivian’s apartment.

“Did you see anything that caught your interest,” asked Vivian politely.

  
“No, all the items I saw looked to me like they were created by children. Pitiful, really,” Thorin paused, realizing what he had just said. “Not- not that the makers themselves put little effort in, the effort was evident, but nothing will ever compare to the markets of Dale in my eyes.”

Vivian playfully headbutted his shoulder, “Oh, I’m sure we mere humans will never meet the lofty standards of Dwarves.”

“You think the only great craftmasters are Dwarves? No, no, no. I have met many Men -women too- that are truly masters of their art.”

  
Vivian nodded, and the pair walked slowly in the general direction of her apartment. Every once in awhile Thorin asked a question about his surroundings, but most of the journey was kept in companionable silence. They were about half a block away from home when Vivian stopped suddenly.

“Wait,” she tugged at Thorin’s arm. “Do you hear that?”

A thin wail echoed from the alley to their left, and Vivian let go of Thorin’s arm toward the sound, telling him to stay where he was. She quickly disappeared into the shadows, leaving Thorin standing alone under the yellow glow of a streetlight.

  
Moments passed without incident, just the echoes of Vivian calling, “Hello?”

He stood, smiling softly to himself until her voice faded away entirely. Thorin couldn’t help but panic a little bit, stepping away from the light of the lamp overhead, into the musty air of the alleyway.

  
A bloodcurdling shriek pierced the air. "THORIN!"  
  
Cold fear ripped through Thorin's body. He had heard that tone before.  
  
Breaking into a run he sprinted down the dark corridor, toward the screams of his own name, all other things forgotten.  
  
"I wish I had Orcrist." Thorin cursed under his breath. No sooner had the words been out of his mouth he saw a heavy piece of metal pipe, about the length of his arm from shoulder to wrist.  
  
_It’s hardly Dwarrow steel, but it’s the best I can manage._  
  
Thorin stooped to pick it up, never breaking his pace. Vivian's shrieks intensified and Thorin's eyes rested on the bane of his existence.  
  
"Azog." He breathed.  
  
But it was not Azog exactly. He was still deathly pale, and scars littered his face and arms, but instead of missing most of his right forearm there was a tattoo of a wicked looking barbed trident running from his elbow to the back of his hand. Azog's cruel blue eyes locked with Thorin's and he laughed.  
  
"I take it that our beautiful Vivian here didn't tell you who her father was?"  
  
Thorin's eyes widened and he looked to Vivian whose downward facing head was caught between the left forearm and bicep of the Orc-man, pain and shame pushing tears down her cheeks.  
  
Thorin straightened and his voice was passionless. "No, she did not."  
  
Azog laughed even harder, and roughly jerked Vivian to look at Thorin.  
  
"Oh, don’t worry that pretty little head Oakenshield! This bitch isn’t mine.  Almost wish she was, it would make this moment _so_ much sweeter. And as for _you,_ ” Azog tightened his arm around her neck momentarily.  “I want you to watch him writhe."  
  
Vivian tried to jerk away from him, but the Pale One only chuckled. "Or my darling you could go and entertain my friends there," Azog turned her bodily so that she could see the thugs behind him.  
  
Vivian turned her head toward her assassin and spat in his face, "Go to Hell, you pig!"  
  
Azog blinked the spittle out of his eye, "Alright then."  
  
She was released just quickly enough that he could throw her into the midst of the men behind him. "Hold the bitch. I have a more pressing itch to scratch."  
  
With a feral grin Azog rounded on Thorin, who stood with his makeshift weapon gripped in both hands, legs apart.  
  
The Pale One advanced, recently obtained baseball bat in hand, “As much as I would love to just shoot you and have it done, I really don’t feel like wasting a bullet on your sorry hide. And this way I get the satisfaction of beating you to death. Win-win, really.”  
  
The world came into strange focus for Thorin as it always had when in hand-to-hand.  
  
He could see the scratches and dents in the metal held by his opponent, the flexing of the muscles in his own hands as he unconsciously gripped his weapon tighter. A deep breath entered and left his lungs with an odd calm.  
  
Breathe in.  
  
Azog was about four feet from Thorin. Perfect. The wind lightly brushed Thorin's face and hair as he exhaled.  
  
Breathe in.  
  
Thorin sprang with a ferocious battle cry that startled even Azog, who stumbled back a few inches. All eyes followed Thorin as he vaulted through the air and onto the ground before Azog, swinging the pipe  with practiced ease. The swing itself brought the pipe through  skin, bone and grey matter before the Orc-man could so much as blink, much less attempt to block.  
  
Thorin stood, chest heaving, as Azog's body, and what remained of his head, hit the dirt in the alley.  
  
Another heartbeat and Thorin was spinning through the twelve burly men and women who attempted to finish their master's bidding. Horribly bruised and battered bodies littered the ground around Thorin, and after a time no more came. Thorin was breathing hard, and he rushed to Vivian's side.  
  
Spattered with blood and brain tissue, he took her face in his hands, “Vivian? Vivian are you hurt?”  
  
“No, no, I’m fine,” her voice shook, and the bruises on her face and neck spoke differently, but Thorin was too relieved to press much. Vivian reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small black rectangle.  
  
“What is _that?_ ”  
  
“I’ll explain later, I’m calling Uncle Ian,” she placed the strange rectangle to her ear and spoke hurriedly into it.  
  
“Uncle Ian? Uncle, I need your help. I think Daddy just tried to have me killed. Yes. I’m in the alley to the left of Soren’s, on Fifth and Charleston. He’s here. He’s fine, mostly, there really isn’t an applicable definition of fine right now. How soon can you be here? What? How-?”

 Vivian’s question was cut off by a puff of grey smoke and a small bang. A figure stepped out, garbed in the current fashion, with shorter hair than Thorin would have thought, and no beard. Strange to his eyes, yes, but still Gandalf.  
  
"Come, dear. I'll come back and take care of the bodies after I get the pair of you home."  
  
Thorin nodded, gathering Vivian into his arms -much to her displeasure- and Gandalf placed one hand between Thorin’s shoulders. A flash. The three of them were in Vivian's apartment. Gandalf directed Thorin to set her on the bed and bent over her, finding and healing her wounds.  
  
“Uncle Ian, what’s going on? I know you know, or at least have a very good idea. Why is Thorin here,” Vivian’s questions were unceasing until Gandalf sighed and waved his hand in front of her eyes, and she fell into a deep sleep. Thorin bolted over to her, worried that she had just passed out from injury, but Gandalf batted him away absently. Thorin contented himself with hovering, arms crossed.  
  
After a few minutes Gandalf stood and addressed Thorin. "I've done what I can. Now all that we can do is allow her lots of rest."  
  
Thorin nodded again, and Gandalf raised an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic compliance. "Do you need me here?'  
  
Thorin verbally responded for the first time since the alley. “ _Uncle_ _Ian_?"  
  
Gandalf gave a half-cocked smile and walked Thorin to the refrigerator, “Food first.”  
  
Taking from the top door something called a pizza he proceeded to explain and demonstrate its preparation.  
Thorin asked how Azog was able to exist when Thorin had destroyed him on Middle Earth.  
  
Gandalf sighed, “You never were one to ask the easy questions, were you? Azog, in the form you saw, existed parallel to the one in Middle Earth until you killed him. Sauron had been experimenting with a different kind of immortality when he discovered the spell that would allow two copies of one being to exist, separate of each other, until one of them died. When one copy died, it’s consciousness, memories, and overall personality would blend with the remaining being, thus granting two lifetimes to one person. It is my belief that Azog was Sauron’s test subject before his fall from power.”  
  
Thorin attempted to process this as Gandalf spoke, but was overwhelmed. _Copies, immortality, something, something. Azog, Sauron - wait, what’s a Sauron? Oh, right. The Dark Wizard._  
  
Minutes later Gandalf barely contained his laughter when Thorin jumped out of his skin because of the timer's bell.  
  
"What," said Thorin breathing hard " In Aule's. Most sacred ass. Was. That?!"  
  
Gandalf chuckled. "It's done now. Remember, don't try to eat it until you can touch the cheese with your fingers.  
  
"Keep an eye on Fili and Kili, will you?" Thorin asked.  
  
"Two, as often as I can spare them. They'll return the favor I'm sure." Another flash and the grey wizard was gone. Thorin thought over his words, and growled when he understood.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was definitely less than pleased with the flow of this chapter. It felt very choppy to me, let me know what you thought in the comments!


End file.
